Virus of the Mind
by Virus-of-the-Mind666
Summary: Okay, the gang receives a typical mission, but Aya discovers his own personal agenda, one that forces him to find the solution himself...even if it means using a girl he's fallen in love with.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This is a songfic...I think, I'm not sure yet. Heh, I just felt like writing, and I have a great plot in my head, I just don't know how it's going to be set up yet. My Incubus, my equivalent to your muses came to me last night (no sexual thoughts *scolds*) and she spoke to me. I like to think that she is my other self, my form for when I die and haunt your asses. *cackles* Anyway...Enjoy. Title: Virus of the Mind By: NightStalker666 Summary: I'm not even going to start. Screw that shit. Rated: R for late content...possibly right now as well, who knows.  
  
***  
  
Who believes in fate, anyway? But, there's also no such thing as coincidence. So everything is always planned for a reason...right?  
  
***  
  
The four members of Weiss Kreuz sat, lounging in the private underground room, listening to Persia talk about their next mission, Manx standing off to the side, watching everyone's reactions. No one seemed to be particularly interested...it was the same old, same old. Stop the evil, and save the innocents. It was almost frightening that the members were now unconcerned, no longer outraged by the madman's ways. They had become madmen themselves, hadn't they? Didn't anyone just have a different opinion about revenge, elimination of evil...what exactly was a hero?  
  
Aya stood at the far wall, crossing his arms as he examined the rest of his team. He waited for the meeting to be dismissed so that he may go and visit his sister. The thought of his beautiful sister laying on the bed in a full coma set a course of fire to ignite through his veins. He was determined to find Takatori, to end his life for destroying another and more. He adored the thought of his blade sliding through the man's chest. He would avenge him. Somehow, he would cause him to suffer...  
  
***  
  
Arranging the flowers, Aya frowned as he thought about the mission. Something was wrong about it...it seemed so...he couldn't quite place his finger on it, but it seemed as if the deaths seemed oddly familiar to the one by the dispersed Creeper gang long ago. The one where the Senator's daughter and her groom were slaughtered along with many other guests included, a brutal killing with a harsh ending for his team member, Ken Hidaka. It seemed so similar. Just a normal party for the rich socialites of the world, and the waiters had unveiled their guns and just opened fire.  
  
Nobody had survived, except for one, who had crawled away, bodyguards dying left and right for his defense. Now, he had disappeared into thin air, probably never to be seen again. But, that wasn't the point. It was too similar, and there was no such thing as coincidence. He slitted his violet eyes, determined to find the answer. He looked up as Omi approached him with several sheets clenched tightly in his hand.  
  
"Omi? What is it?" he asked.  
  
Thrusting the papers out, Omi merely looked at him in answer. With a curious look, he glanced down at the papers, skimming through it quickly. His eyes widened and fingers clenched involuntarily as one sentence leaped out at him.  
  
'The man who had crawled away from the open gunfire in the tragic Spring Debutante Ball was found to be the son of Takatori.'  
  
"No," Aya whispered, his throat struggling to work, his lungs panicking as his brain had not registered that he had stopped breathing.  
  
"Aya, we need to find him," Omi said, staring at him. He hadn't known that Aya would react this violently with the news. There was something wrong. It had been the same whenever someone had mentioned Takatori. He wondered what Aya's connection to the man was.  
  
"When-where-how did you find this?"  
  
Omi shrugged, glancing out the store's window, his gaze focused on two little boys juggling a soccer ball for Ken. "I was digging through some information on that shooting, and I just came up with it," he answered. He paused for a moment and added, "I never even knew that Takatori had a son."  
  
"Neither did I, neither did I."  
  
"His son left behind a fiancé. If we find her, we'll probably find him not too far away. It's only natural he would go to his fiancé for help," Omi said.  
  
"Why wasn't she at the ball?"  
  
"She was ill," he answered bluntly, staring at Aya, wondering if he caught the strangeness of that.  
  
Aya shook his head, frowning. "That's too weird, too simple. She was ill. It seems as if that was the biggest ball, the coming out ceremony for some of the women, it even reached the news here, and we're practically isolated."  
  
"Coincidence?"  
  
"There's no such thing..." he muttered, staring at the papers once more.  
  
Omi sighed, dropping his chin to his chest, lost in thought. Aya looked up from the papers, and forced himself to release the papers, watching it flutter to the ground at his feet. He stepped back as if they were about to strike quickly and lethally, and stared down at them, suddenly hesitant with the new task at hand. This complicated things, altered everything. Now, the mission was not a simple task, but an intricate operation with many twists and turns.  
  
"Let's do it," Aya said, steel in his voice.  
  
***  
  
Yohji grumbled at the fact that they now faced a problem with their task. What was so bloody hard about finding the goddamn killers and ending the bastards' lives? Lifting his head from the counter of the bar, he took a swig from his beer, nursing the cool bottle in his hand, feeling the small beads of perspiration from the chilled beer dampen his hands. He shifted, bored out of his mind. Where were the hot girls tonight? Probably holing themselves up somewhere, getting revenge on guys. He scowled.  
  
Tossing a tip on the counter, he stood and left the bar, stepping aside from the front entrance so as not to be in the way, and breathed in deeply, and the cold, fresh air gently lifted his blond hair, soothing him gently. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the night, absentmindedly counting the stars. He blinked when someone tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"'Scuse me, sir, if you're not gonna be goin in, I suggest you leave," the bouncer growled, an unnecessary look of menace glinting in beady, bloodshot, brown eyes.  
  
"Sure, buddy, no problem," Yohji answered, and stepped down the rest of the stairs, his feet automatically taking him in the general direction towards home.  
  
Cutting into an alleyway, his footsteps barely echoing as his body naturally took the skill of stealth without even realizing that he was actually doing so. Turning the corner, he instantly ducked back, slowly looking around the corner again. His hands clenched with rage at the scene that lay before him.  
  
A girl was spread eagled on the length of the cement, tied by chains with hideous spikes attached, biting into soft flesh. Her clothing was ripped as she was being forced to suck one of the vicious attacker's dick, as his other companion thrust into her, each vile shove causing her back to arch in pain. Yet, another cohort watched as he struck out with well placed kicks with steel toed boots into her ribs whenever she did something he did not approve. Yohji could see that this had been going for some time judging by the fresh bruises on her body, the gashes, the redness, her faint, exhausted cries of pain.  
  
He looked away briefly, biting back a sob of pain and outrage he felt for the woman suffering. Steeling his resolve, he slipped his weapon, coiling it around both hands, containing his emotions for a clear headed kill. Stepping into the shadow while slipping his gloves on, he bared his teeth in disgust, as the trio did not even notice, being so caught up in their cruel game.  
  
Lashing out, the rope grabbed both occupants giving the harsh beating, and the other kneeling as he forced the lady to take him fully, completely relentless. Jerking his arm back, his muscle tightened as he reined them in, the fine laced rope tightening upon their necks. "Cruel bitches never deserve to live," he hissed as he caught one of the man's eyes, bugging out.  
  
He realized it was the one who had knelt by her face, caressing her, but tightening his hold whenever she paused to suck in air through her nose. "Nighty-night," he said, wiggling his fingers slightly. Releasing the pair, who had long since passed into purgatory, he watched the other, who seemed to be oblivious to his two partner's sudden disappearance and struggle. Shaking his head, he walked behind him, noticing faintly that startling lavender eyes were fastened on him.  
  
Slipping another length of rope around the man's neck, he tightened the tension as he spread both his hands apart in a sharp gesture. The man barely had time to scream, but managed a gurgle as the rope surrounded the soft flesh of the neck, and bit in deeply, slicing the larynx. Yohji stepped back, dragging the man with him, mindful that he would not collapse atop the already traumatized girl.  
  
Stepping around the dead man, he quickly struggled with the chains, careful not to touch the wicked spikes. As the woman's legs were free, he moved on to her arms, and gently helped her up. "Oh, man," he said, noticing her back. He winced as he stared at her flayed back, bits of skin hung limply down, flecked with pieces of gravel and obvious cum.  
  
"I know its going to sound completely retarded, but I just have to ask. Are you okay?" He paused for any kind of retort, but didn't get any. Curious, he peered around her shoulder, and looked at her face, noticing with a faint chill down his spine that her eyes were empty, completely void of emotion. Lavender depths focused on an imaginary spot upon the brick exterior of the building. "Christ," he said, swallowing hard. "Fuck," he swore with more vengeance.  
  
Laying her back down, he pulled out his cell phone, and quickly dialed the number to his apartment that he shared with the other members of Weiss. "Hello?"  
  
"Aya?" Yohji asked, faintly relieved.  
  
"Yohji?" he in turn replied, a bit sarcastically though. Probably thought he was playing some sort of joke on him or something.  
  
"I have a major problem. I was at the bar—"  
  
"This is a great way to begin your problem, Kuduo," Aya interrupted. "What happened? A girl tried to pick you up, but you already found someone else—"  
  
"No!" Yohji shouted, pulling the phone away to glare at it, as if blaming it for Aya's suspicions.  
  
Jesus, the guy would never let it down, would he? "I left the bar and was taking the back alley to the house when I stumbled upon these guys who were raping a girl. And just—Dammit!  
  
Just come over here, right now! I'll explain later, but this is serious, this is so serious. She looks dead, but she's not...it's like she has no soul, but, of course, she probably wouldn't, huh? Since, you know, she was being raped, and who wouldn't be—"  
  
"Yohji," Aya interrupted once more, his tone softened as he was fully aware of the man's obvious terror for the woman he had just rescued. "Where are you?"  
  
"About a couple blocks from the house, you know that bar I always hang out at. Just go down one block, and turn into the alleyway where that one diner is. The one that's open for 24 hours a day."  
  
"Okay, I'll be right there. Do you want me to bring Omi? In case she needs immediate attention?"  
  
"No, we're not that far, and I don't want her to be checked out here in the open. If-if she does come to, I guess, I don't want her recognizing this place and going into shock," he replied, shaking his head for emphasis.  
  
"Good idea," Aya replied. "Okay, I'll take the car then, I'll get there even faster."  
  
"Great," he answered, and snapped his phone shut. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced down at the girl, and sighed when he saw that she was still staring, fixated on nothing. Shifting, he picked her up gently, aware of her back, but there was nothing he could really do. Stepping over the dead, he walked towards the end of the alleyway, and shook his head when he noted that she hardly weighed a thing. Cliché, but it was so true, another bad cliché, it broke his heart to notice it.  
  
Leaning against the wall, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. This was insane. He saw far worse things...starting with Maki, he instantly avoided that thought as his heart clenched tightly, but frowned, growing on to his point. That was his point...he saw so many things that would make anyone go insane, but, but this one woman rocked his world. He felt as if the world was swallowing him whole. He was sinking...and he had no idea why. He straightened as he heard the squeal of burning rubber as a car halted abruptly.  
  
Aya stepped out of his car, and ran around the front end of the car, and towards Yohji. He skidded to a stop when he noticed the limp form sprawled out in Yohji's arms, and shrugged out of his trench coat, wrapping it around the girl as he juggled the light figure into his own arms. "You drive, Yohji, I think you need it," Aya instructed.  
  
Yohji stared at him for a moment before nodding, slightly stunned. Aya let no one drive his Porsche, his sacred Porsche. Revving the engine, he waited as Aya climbed into the passenger seat, after laying the girl out along the backseats, and did an illegal U-turn before racing back to the house in record time. Climbing out once more, he opened the door as Aya ran up the stairs and burst into the quaint home, yelling at Omi that they were here.  
  
The blond showed up with large blue eyes as he noticed the girl, and motioned Aya for him to lay her out on the couch. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he opened his med kit, searching for the right supplies. Looking up, he watched as three pairs watched him anxiously, hovering. Scowling slightly, he said in an exasperated tone.  
  
"Ken, go get some clean towels, Yohji, go boil some water, and Aya, go get some loose clothes. I don't care from whose closet they come from, just get loose clothes." They all nodded quickly and dispersed to do their bidding, while Omi was slightly shocked by their quick agreements, especially Aya's, who was the leader, and made it plainly so at times. He was snapped from his astonishment when a low groan of pain drifted towards him. Rising to his knees, he leaned over, gently brushing away sweat dampened bangs framing the woman's face.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently. He shivered slightly when lavender orbs swiveled towards him, and fastened upon his face. He had the odd feeling he was being coldly assessed beneath that dead disguise.  
  
"You have the gall to ask me that?" she asked softly.  
  
He jumped at her sudden voice of opinion. He forced a hesitant laugh. "No, no, I guess not. Sorry?" he offered.  
  
Scoffing a bitter laugh, she turned her head to fix her gaze on the gentle slope of the couch, examining its caramel upholstery.  
  
"Um," Omi struggled, looking around. "I'm going to be cleaning out your wounds, it's going to sting a little bit," he warned.  
  
His answer was an indifferent shrug, barely noticeable. He was about to say something else but noticed that her body relaxed into blissful unconsciousness.  
  
Before he could worry about her sudden abruptness of unconsciousness, Yohji walked in with warm water in a clean bucket they used to water the flowers sometimes, while Ken walked in, trying to peer around the corner of the white towels, piled high in his arms.  
  
Omi rolled his eyes, "I said some towels, Ken, not the entire stack."  
  
"Well, I didn't know how much would be needed. You never know," he defended, dropping the stack by the edge of the couch, resting a hand on the top to steady it. "Do we soak the towels in the warm water and rinse her off?"  
  
"Yeah," Omi said, nodding.  
  
Throwing a couple of towels at Yohji, who soaked the towels and wrung them out, handing one to Ken after he had painfully finished ridding Aya's coat from her body. While Yohji gently stroked the skin of her arms, Ken cleansed her legs.  
  
Omi began to cut pieces of gauze as he determined each size of the wound. So intense were their concentrations, they all jumped and rolled back in surprise when Aya walked into the room, a question trailing off his lips as he watched the trio with a funny look. "Yeah, I was just wondering if it was okay if she wore one of your jersey's, Ken. My laundry's not done, I think Omi's is kinda small, and I didn't want to risk my life going into Yohji's room."  
  
"Why would you go to my room?...And what's wrong with it?" Yohji asked.  
  
"Everything," Aya countered. "Has she talked yet?" he asked.  
  
"No," Yohji and Ken answered at the same time, while Omi answered, "Yes."  
  
"What? Since when?" Yohji asked.  
  
Omi shrugged, "While you guys were busy, she groaned in pain, and when I asked her how she was feeling, she said, quote, 'You have the gall to ask me that?' end quote."  
  
Ken snorted. "That was a stupid question to ask, and that was a cold response." "Whatever," Omi flushed, glaring at him. "Here, cut the rest of her clothes off," Omi said, handing Ken the pair of scissors.  
  
"Um, no," he answered, shaking his head.  
  
"Why not?" Omi asked, annoyed.  
  
"I'm not cutting off her clothes," Ken stated bluntly.  
  
"Ugh, here, give it to me, I've had more experience," Yohji answered, and paused as he took the scissors, realizing what he had just said, and also the stares he got. "Wait, let me rephrase that."  
  
Aya shook his head. "I don't want to hear it. Tell me, how did this happen?"  
  
"Well," Yohji said, gently grasping the edge of the torn shirt, and snipping carefully. "I left the bar, and started heading home, but decided to take the long way home, so I cut into the back alley. As I started turning the corner, I noticed the three of them just...ripping into her. It was disgusting."  
  
Aya frowned. "But, why there? Why did they do it there?"  
  
Ken shrugged. "You know how street rats work. They probably just mugged her off the street, and dragged her into the alley."  
  
"I know, but, it's just weird," Aya insisted.  
  
"Why?" Omi asked.  
  
"It's weird that they did it in that particular alley, you know that place. Nobody risks being there, even the street rats. It's littered with cops, and there are prying eyes all along there, not to mention that they have street lamps. It's not the typical haven for them. Unless..." he drifted off, his mind rapidly thinking.  
  
"What?" all three of them echoed.  
  
"Unless they wanted to be found," Aya commented.  
  
"What?" they all shouted, this time their voices obvious with incredulity.  
  
"Think about it."  
  
"No, Aya, that's stupid," Yohji said, shaking his head. "They're street rats, they probably just grabbed her from the streets, just like Ken said. There's nothing really special about her."  
  
No," Aya said, shaking his head slowly. "Look at her clothes. They're expensive designer labels despite the fact that they're in that state. You can also tell they were torn long ago, like she's roamed the streets...or she was abused for this long, but it didn't happen just hours ago. There's healing bruises and scars."  
  
"You're right," Yohji breathed out, his eyes widening as he took in all the details he had missed in the madness.  
  
"And-"Aya said, breaking off as the girl roused herself from her sleep, shaking her head gently. She whispered something softly, moaning betwixt pain and obvious yearning.  
  
"What did she say?" Yohji asked.  
  
They all leaned in closer, but Aya was the first one to pick up what she was saying, and jerked back, his eyes now round, his fists clenching and unclenching. "No...No!!" Aya shouted, staring at her wildly.  
  
"What? What is it?" Omi asked, staring at him.  
  
"Windsor? What's Windsor?" Yohji asked, scrunching his nose in confusion as he caught what she said as well.  
  
Omi froze, and stared at Aya. "It's not what, it's who," he said softly.  
  
"Well, who the hell is Windsor? And what the hell kind of name is that?" Ken scoffed.  
  
"Windsor Wellington Markham III...son of Takatori, the sole survivor of the massacre of the Spring Debutante Ball, mysteriously disappeared afterwards," Omi said slowly.  
  
***  
  
AN: Oi, this is where I leave off, folks. I hope that you review...please, I have attack monkeys. They're verra painful. They are, *clears throat* "Evil flying purple monkeys that will rip your face off if you do not review." *chortles* That was good.  
  
Okay, well, I hope this was an okay fic. Please tell me if I wrote something wrong or anything, I tried to make it as accurate as possible, but I'm blonde, I'm stupid, I almost always make mistakes. Anyway, what do you guys think happens next? If I like some of your suggestions, I'll even use it! ...and of course give you credit for it.  
  
Oh, and if you would like to see my daily, corrupted thoughts, you can go to my little profile thing, and there you will see my link to my livejournal.com thing, and my friend's forum site. *cough*go there*cough* It's actually quite interesting. We have assigned subjects, but, we actually talk about anything that pops into mind. Very exciting. I think I'm done talking, so...*bows* Also, the title should make sense later on in the story. I swear. 


	2. Unraveling

Title: Virus of the Mind  
  
By: NightStalker666  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, screw 'em....lol. Personally I'd do Aya...*thinks* Oh, yeah, Aya... *cough* Ahem...  
  
AN: Oi! I am on a cruise for my Spring Break, and I have no access to a computer...well, I do, my laptop, but I'd have to hook it up to my cell phone, which I could do, and I'm doing it right now...but that would mean less time with hot guys. Please, choose. Besides, I am alone on a huge cruise, and I mean ALONE!!! No sister to piss me off, my little brothers to strangle, and my annoying parents, bugging the shiite outta me. *sigh* This is bliss. Truly, it is. AND I got to miss the last FOUR days of school, and another THREE days after break. *cries* Sometimes I do love my parents. Lol.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * Chapter Two: Unraveling...  
  
Yohji frowned. "I don't get it. What's so special about—"  
  
"Crap!" Omi interrupted, leaping on to his knees as he threw himself upon the convulsing girl. "She's going into shock! Hold her down, hold her down!" he screamed frantically, struggling to pin his weight on her waist.  
  
"Why's she going into shock now?" Ken asked as he reached and held her ankles pressed against the couch while Aya pinned her knees.  
  
"I don't know, probably from the wounds or—Fuck!" Omi roared, and seemed oblivious to the others' looks as he swore, and leaned back as she started to relax. "She has two major wounds here. Look! On her right side, buried by the couch, she has what looks like a deep dagger wound that scrapes across her ribs lightly. Another wound by the same weapon on her thigh, almost right between the gaps of her pelvic bone."  
  
"There's another one here, by her right shoulder," Aya said, forgetting about the incident of the name Windsor. "There's a huge gash splaying across her front right shoulder blade, and you can even see the bone."  
  
"And a deep calf wound as well, looks like it sliced some muscles too," Ken added, shaking his head. "Jesus, she's a mess. Either she's someone of real importance, or that's just one unlucky, messed up girl."  
  
"Enough chit-chat, we gotta get to work," Omi said tersely, postponing all other debates as to the unidentified female. (Eh, makes her sound dead. -_- ;)  
  
With no real words of protest, they set to work.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Man, I never knew cleaning up a girl who's as good as dead was so much work," Yohji muttered, leaning back in his chair as everyone relaxed in the kitchen.  
  
"You never know how to clean up or take care of a girl dead or alive period," Ken said, rolling his eyes. "So, she was really messed up. Whoever did that to her or ordered someone to do that to her did a number on her."  
  
"Don't go changing the subject—"  
  
"Yeah, who would've done that to her anyway," Omi asked, shaking his head at the thought. "She had so many contusions and lacerations, not to mention sprains and broken bones, she looked as if she was put in a blender with dull razors. They probably gave her a good chase too," he thought darkly.  
  
"What do you mean?" Aya asked, interest piqued by the sudden gloomy expression plastered upon the usually cheerful face.  
  
"Well, unless you threw her shoes away, which is unlikely, she had no shoes on, and her ankle was sprained, like she was running and it twisted underneath her. I would assume they were heels since it seemed most likely with what, well, what remained of her clothes," Omi deducted thoughtfully, pondering to himself.  
  
"That's true, it does seem more likely," Ken interjected. "You know what's weird though? Her hair looks odd. Like it was a horrible dye job, or she was wearing a wig," he said, pursing his lips in thought.  
  
"What if she is wearing a wig?" Yohji asked.  
  
All four members stared at each other before they got up abruptly, chairs toppling backwards as everyone sprinted into the room where the girl had been laid out. (Ugh, now she sounds like she's laundry set out to dry. *.*;)  
  
Omi knelt beside the peacefully sleeping girl, and gently lifted a stray lock of ashen blonde hair, and checked underneath, where the scalp should be. "It does seem a bit weird," he murmured. "Also very well done, if it is a wig...which it is," he said, gently peeling small layers of blonde away.  
  
"It seems that some are even extensions upon the wig, so it looks more realistic," Yohji commented. "That's really expensive to get done."  
  
"How would you know, Kudou? You wanna tell us something here?" Ken asked, chuckling to himself.  
  
"That's a good one, asswipe."  
  
"Wow, talk about a contrast," Aya commented, ignoring the two starting a heat argument.  
  
They all stared as hair so black that it shone blue was pinned against the skull, coiling it tightly so as not even a single strand could be shone. It brought out a new image to the bruised face, giving it the look of a battle fought angel. (More like a fallen angel. *mutters*)  
  
"Who is she?" Yohji asked, shaking his head. "She's probably wearing contacts, but still, I just can't picture anyone who looks like that. She comes from money, so she should be known, a little bit at least."  
  
"I know who she is," Aya said softly.  
  
"Who?" Everyone asked, staring at the silent fighter, anticipating his answer.  
  
"I don't know her name, but she's the girl who helped me drive her to the hospital after my sister..." he drifted off, unwilling to say more. "She's gotten a lot thinner, not to mention aged a lot more, but I remember that hair. I told her that it reminded me of a seal. All velvety and," he stopped; glaring at the gawking stares he was receiving. "I just recognize her, okay?" he snapped.  
  
"Hey, you're the one who started, don't go all hissy on us, ass," Yohji protested.  
  
"So," Ken said, shooting an annoyed look at Yohji. "We know that she's helped Aya, but we don't know who she is. Isn't there some way in finding out?"  
  
"Sure, if she wakes up and we ask her nicely," Yohji snickered.  
  
"Okay, what is up your ass?" Ken demanded. "Aren't you the one who brought her here? Shouldn't you feel at least a little bit of concern? Can you do that? Huh?"  
  
"Sheesh, I was just trying to lighten up the mood a little bit," he grumbled, pouting slightly. "Fine, I guess I could call someone from where I used to work, I keep in touch with a few there. Maybe I can ask about some missing case files."  
  
"That could work," Omi nodded. "I can go check around on my computer if—"  
  
"No, she's waking up," Aya said, shaking his head. He pointed, and sure enough, she started to moan as she tossed her head sideways, as if fighting consciousness.  
  
Light lavender eyes, hazed over by pain focused on each of the faces hovering over her. They all held their breaths as she blinked slowly, and her throat trembled as she swallowed.  
  
Aya moved forward to help her sit up, despite Omi's protests. Propping her up with his arm, he reached over and grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand, and held it under her lips. Holding it steady, he patiently showed her to drink in small sips, and gently laid her back down again, her chest rattling with each breath she forced.  
  
"Jesus," Yohji blurted out. "She sounds like she's dying."  
  
Ken stared at him, and stared back down at their 'patient' with a shake of his head. He stepped aside as Omi walked over to the other side of the girl, easing his weight gradually upon the bed so as not to disturb her.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Apocalypse," she answered in a pained whisper.  
  
"Wha-?" Yohji asked, and started to laugh. "Apocalypse. That's your nickname, right? I mean—"he broke off when angry violet depths looked up at him. "I was just kidding, Aya, although I don't know why I'm being glared at," he muttered.  
  
"Apocalypse, right," Omi said with a nod. "Do you know what happened to you?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed with bitter amusement, her lip curling in a nasty smile. "I think I know what happened to me," she answered. "Where am I?"  
  
"At a flower shop. Well, above it anyway. Yohji found you, and brought you here," Ken answered.  
  
"You forgot saved, possibly rescued, and killed for her to be here," Yohji said with a smile.  
  
Ken shook his head once more. "Right, more power to you. The world would be in such peril without you here," he said sarcastically.  
  
"Hey, pop a fucking a Midol," Yohji snapped. "Your name is a codename. Who do you work for?" he asked, looking over at her again.  
  
"Gabrielle."  
  
"Gabrielle. Well, you seem to be willing to give answers out, aren't you? Is this a trap?" he commented thoughtfully, eyeing her shrewdly.  
  
"They betrayed me," she answered.  
  
"The ones you work for?" Omi asked.  
  
"Who else?" she countered. "I am no longer under they're employ...besides, I work for someone else."  
  
"And it doesn't matter if you speak freely?" Yohji suggested.  
  
"Yes. They are not concerned about what I give out about myself, as long as I do not unveil their disguise. I employed myself to that other group, and swore an oath that I will obey them, and I would. Even if it meant that I have to kill my true employers, I would, but as soon as they broke they're oath to me, I no longer am responsible for my oath as well."  
  
Aya smiled at her explanation. "'It is the responsibility of the master to honor his part in fealty as much as it is the servant's.'"  
  
"Exactly," she agreed, nodding slightly. "So, Weiss Kreuz, I now am under a blood oath to you as well. I am your servant for you have saved my life."  
  
"Fine," Aya nodded. "One question. How did you know that we were Weiss Kreuz?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
AN: Short, I know, but hey, cruise, remember? ^-~ Anywho, review, review. Oh, and if there are no paragraphs on here again, I am gonna go on a fucking bluidy rampage. Grrr!!!!!!!! 


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